


In Any Other World

by TheScribz



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls, Excessive Swearing, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Reverse Bill Cipher, Reverse Dipper Pines, Reverse Gideon Gleeful, Reverse Mabel Pines, Reverse Pacifica Northwest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScribz/pseuds/TheScribz
Summary: Okay, so Dipper might be willing to admit that he may have made a mistake coming to the woods by himself.Wherein Dipper finds himself transported to Reverse Falls, and desperately tries to navigate this backwards town without fucking anything up.(Spoiler alert: he fucks everything up)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is quasi-post-canon. So here, weirdmageddon did happen, but no one really remembers it, because it kind of also didn't happen. Bill Cipher disappeared for a while, and no one's really heard from him since it happened. It's been a few years since then, Dipper and Mabel are both 17. Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford went on their round-the-world trip, but come back to Gravity Falls in the summers to spend time with the kids.

Okay, so Dipper might be willing to admit that he _may_ have made a mistake coming to the woods by himself. It’s Gravity Falls, anything can happen! One day it’s giant goats chewing on your roof, the next you get kidnapped by big foot and have to drink tea with his little sister who didn’t believe in humans (seriously, don’t ask. It took weeks to get all the glitter out of his hair after that little misadventure. At least Mabel had fun).

Dipper runs, swerves left and ducks behind a tree. He pants quietly, hands on his knees and crouched awkwardly behind a bush. He very, very carefully peaks his head over the foliage, then curses and ducks down as the creature goes barreling past, missing him completely. His shoulders sag down and he breathes a quick sigh of relief. Crisis temporarily averted. Maybe he could climb a tree? Could these things climb?

So. Maybe it was a mistake to come into the woods without Mabel, but in Dipper’s defense, she was having a sleepover with Grenda and Candy, and that is scarier than any monster he’s encountered in the woods so far. Also, really, who would have thought that there would be actual, honest-to-goodness Dinosaurs in the woods in Gravity Falls?

He had taken his journal with him that morning, and was only planning to look for a few more of the growing/shrinking crystals. You can never have too many of those, right? Besides, he was only going to be gone for an hour at the most, honest. How much trouble could he get in? So he had only been planning a short jaunt in the woods when he stumbled a massive, 3-story chunk of amber nestled between an outcropping of rocks and the side of a cave. Dipper didn’t know that amber could even _get_ that big. On the very side of the amber, almost out in the open, was a massive bear-looking creature, completely intact and frozen in time mid roar. It stood at almost 12 feet tall, and it’s gargantuan paws were easily bigger than Dipper’s head.

Mistake #1: going into the woods in Gravity Falls alone. Obvious. He’s come here every summer, he should know better by now. 

Mistake #2: seeing if he could get the bear out of the amber using a hammer from his backpack.

It’s just. It was so _cool._ And Grunkle Stan would love it! Who knows, this thing might have even been the missing link between prehistoric bears and modern ones! Who could have predicted that one swing of Dipper’s hammer would crack the amber, and that the rest would start crumbling down? On top of that, what was the _exact statistical probability_ that the bear was still alive? Or that the beast hadn’t eaten in about 2 million years? 

Okay, granted, anyone with any knowledge of Gravity Falls probably could have predicted this. 

Dipper freezes as he hears snuffling behind him, and then cranes his neck to check. 

Uh. Yep. Didn’t actually lose the bear-dinosaur.

 The monster is standing on all fours a few feet away, and even then he’s the size of minivan. Dipper stays perfectly still. Can he only see movement? Smell fear? Should Dipper make himself bigger so he seems like a threat? Should he run away, or will that activate the thing’s prey drives? He hesitates for a moment in indecision.

The bear inhales again, his breath a horrible stink and his teeth each the size of a butcher’s knife (or maybe it’s hers? To be honest, Dipper didn’t actually check), then lets out another earth-shattering roar. Running, yes, running is the plan.

Dipper takes off through the trees, hoping that the underbrush and tightly packed trees might slow the bear down, but it’s surprisingly agile and gains on him quickly. Dipper’s heart beats a frenzied, panicked rhythm as he runs for his life (the third time this month, but hey, who’s counting). He hears the booming sound of water crashing somewhere around him, but he can’t take the time to get his bearings. He sprints as fast as he can, barely even registering the wildlife tapering off around him.

He skids to a sudden halt as he approaches the ledge of a waterfall. He glances around himself in indecision, but he’s cornered himself at the edge of a less-than-proverbial cliff side. He hears the bear thrashing around in the woods, coming closer and closer and Dipper is panic-stricken. He peers over the edge of the waterfall and sees a pool at the bottom. He can’t tell from here, but it looks like it might be deep, and he doesn’t see any rocks sticking out of the water. Just a sheer cliff face of rock and water that goes down about 80 feet.

Oh god. Oh god. Okay. People cliff jump all the time, right? This might not actually kill him. Maybe.

Dipper takes a step towards the ledge, dithers a little. The bear is closer now, crashing through the last of the underbrush at the edge of the woods. Dipper takes a breath and jumps.

The wind is whipping through his hair, and the noise is deafening. He’s falling, there’s nothing to catch him, but it’s taking so much longer than he thought it would. He waves his arms a little at his sides, pathetically, almost as if some long-forgotten instinct is trying to make him flap wings that _he most definitely does not have_. The water rushes closer to meet him and he smacks feet first against the water and _oh my god ow, that is so painful, why is that so painful?_

The water rushes over his head, swallows him whole, and drags him under. He kicks his shoes and tries desperately to swim towards the surface, but he’s gotten turned around after he hit the water. He doesn’t know which way is up and _oh god he’s panicking again he needs to breathe but there’s no air, where is air, oh god, oh god._

He inhales water, chokes, thrashes again in a frantic attempt at getting oxygen to his brain, then goes limp as blackness encroaches on his vision.

 

* * *

 

Dipper’s ears are pounding, and he feels like he was just stomped on by an elephant, eaten by a lion, excreted by said lion, then run over by a truck just for the fun of it. He’s lying face down in the mud on the bank of a river, and someone is shaking his shoulders and asking if he’s ok. He’s not, he’s very much not ok, but he tries to inhale and tell them he’ll be alright. Instead, he convulses, stomach spasming, then coughs up all the water that had been apparently just hanging out in his lungs.

Someone pounds his back roughly as he vomits up the rest of the river water, then a water bottle is pushed into his right hand. He gags a few more times, then brings the water to his lips, tilting his head up into the sun for the first time since he woke up. The figure beside him gasps, but he’s too preoccupied with getting fresh water down his abused throat. The hand that’s been rubbing circles into his back pauses for a second, then resumes tentatively. He chokes out a quick “Thanks.”

He stays like that, head tilted up and eyes closed for a minute, trying to sort out in his head what happened and tamp down the lingering adrenaline flooding his veins. Finally, he calms down enough to turn towards his rescuers. And promptly wishes he was back in the river.

Kneeling to his right is Gideon Gleeful, a wary look on his face. He looks different from the last time Dipper saw him – Gideon is wearing a dark blue and black hoodie and brown cargo shorts instead of his usual ridiculous powder-blue suit. His white hair is cut shorter than he remembers, as well, with a blue baseball cap on his head.

“I- I don’t- Gideon? What are you doing here?” Dipper asks, bewildered. Gideon had been out of prison for a few years, and yeah, Dipper guesses he kinda redeemed himself during the whole apocalypse thing, but as far as Dipper is concerned, he can’t trust Gideon as far as he can throw him (and while Gideon is much smaller in stature than Dipper, Dipper will be the first to admit that he basically has noodle arms. He’s not sure he can even pick up Gideon, let alone throw him).

A cough has Dipper turning his head to his left. And there is Pacifica Northwest. Okay. What.

Her long blond hair is tied up in a high ponytail with a gaudy, 80’s style hairband wrapped around her head. She’s got on huge triangle earrings, a pink and purple sweater with a felted cat face on the front that reads “clawsome”, and mint green shorts. Pacifica looks like she raided Mabel’s closet, found the most Mabel-esque things she could find, then rolled in them.

“Pacifica?!” Okay, Dipper needed to find his zen. He was practically screeching at this point, and his breathing had picked up again. “Why are you two in the woods? Together? Why are you dressed like that? Do you guys even know each other? And- and is that my journal?” Dipper wrenched himself away from the two of them, and ripped a red journal with the number “3” on the outside out of Gideon’s hands. He opened it and flipped through the pages. “No. No no no no no no! This can’t be happening, oh my god, my research!”

The journal was filled with his Grunkle Ford’s handwriting, but instead of Dipper’s research in the margins of the book, someone else had commented all over the pages and- and was that glitter pen? What the hell!

Gideon and Pacifica were exchanging nervous glances, but Dipper ignored them in favor of thumbing through the book. This was a whole new level of weird, even for Gravity Falls. This was a nightmare. It was like- it was like he was in the opposite of Gravity Falls right now. But that would be crazy. Totally and completely insane. There was a logical explanation for this, right? 

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brief description of a panic attack toward the end of the chapter. If you'd like to avoid this scene, stop reading at "Pacifica steps between Grunkle Stan and Dipper" and start reading again at "Dipper finally turned his awareness back to the present"

Okay. Dipper is _calm_. He swears. He is _totally and completely cool right now, guys_.

 

Fine. Dipper isn’t calm. He’s completely freaking out. He’s got problems, okay?

 

Problem #1: He is soaking wet and cold from his impromptu swim. Granted, this is arguably his least problematic issue, but his socks are wet and squelching in his tennis shoes, and his underwear is riding up uncomfortably, he’s pretty sure he saw not-Pacifica eyeing up the way his t-shirt is sticking to his chest, and overall he’s just _really uncomfortable_ right now, don’t judge him.

 

Problem #2: This journal 3 is not exactly _his_ journal 3. For starters, there is pink glitter gel pen written in the margins of the book instead of his trusty, NASA-approved-writes-in-everything-even-negative-100-degrees-or-underwater-or-even-space pen (because you never know when you’ll be launched into space and damn, how are you going to take notes in the void of the Universe?). Alright. He might be willing to admit that it’s a little ridiculous, but to be fair, that pen had been a gift from the members of his (totally not a conspiracy theory club, thanks Mabel! Those aliens were _real_ , damn it) investigative group from High School. The _point_ is, this is not his journal. His notes are gone and replaced with gel pen and baby animal stickers (are they scratch n’ sniff? Dipper looks around surreptitiously and leans over the journal. Yes. The answer to that question is yes.)

 

Problem #3: Dipper doesn’t think he’s Kansas anymore, Toto. He’s not sure where he got his first hint. It might’ve been because of the weird, alternate reality Pacifica and Gideon guiding/marching him through the woods. It might be the fact that his journal has been replaced by a Lisa Frank imposter. It might’ve been the fact that _the sky is fucking orange, seriously, what the fuck_. Anyway, it becomes increasingly clear every step he takes that this isn’t Gravity Falls. Or, at least, this isn’t _his_ Gravity Falls.

 

Dipper’s would-be prison guards are silent as they escort him through the woods. Dipper is pretty distracted by the scenery himself, so he’s not exactly complaining. Whatever chased him over the waterfall seems to be long gone, but there are still detectable signs of magic around him to the trained eye. Gnomes peer out from hollow tree stumps, while bushes shiver ominously. Dipper spots what he thinks is a normal squirrel, until he sees a flash of fangs from it’s mouth and blood red eyes (note to self: avoid the squirrels). Dipper jumps and trains his gaze back onto the path that they’re following.

 

Honestly, aside from the obvious differences, the place is more familiar than he would expect it to be. Sure, the sky is orange, but the skyline is the same – cliffs and mountains and hills all spread out in the same location they existed in his universe. The weird, creepy lumberjack statue stands tall and proud in the distance. In fact, Dipper even recognizes the path that he’s walking on – it’s a path he’s travelled many times, between the river and the Mystery Shack. If everything else is the same, they should be at the shack in only 10 or so minutes.

 

It’s not-Gideon who breaks the silence first, startling Dipper out of his reverie. “So who are you exactly? You don’t seem like Dipper, but I can’t think of anyone else you could be.” Gideon looks reserved, and not a little suspicious.

 

“My name is Dipper Pines, but, uh, I don’t think I’m the Dipper you know.”

 

The two (siblings? Cousins? Friends? Dipper’s not sure what the relationship is there) freeze. Pacifica squints at him. “You can’t be a Pines. Our name is Pines.” She says, accusingly.

 

Dipper looks up at the orange sky, and wonders just what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

 

* * *

 

 

The party of three makes it back to the Mystery Shack relatively unscathed. There wasn’t a whole lot of talking after their little revelation. Gideon and Pacifica clearly didn’t believe Dipper, or perhaps just didn’t trust him. Either way, Dipper wasn’t looking into divulging information to people he didn’t entirely trust himself – sure, Dipper might have gotten along a little better with Gideon the past few years, and Mabel and Pacifica became fast friends after their adventures so many years ago, but Dipper had always remained wary of the townsfolk of Gravity Falls, and he was doubly so wary of their alternate universe counterparts. (If this even was an alternate universe. For all Dipper knew, he hit his head on a rock on the way down from his recent exploit in cliff diving, and this was all a very elaborate dream. Or worse. But this didn’t really feel like the afterlife, and Dipper kind of doubted he would dream up the way his toes were starting to blister against his drenched socks.)

 

They enter the shack quietly through the gift shop, where a clean-cut college aged boy greets the (pseudo? Dipper needs a better word for them) Pines, before going silent when he catches Dipper’s eye. The man has black hair and a clean-shaven face, a bright green button up, and a friendly, if uneasy, smile. It’s no wonder, really, that it takes Dipper a few minutes before he recognizes the man’s face.

 

“Robbie?” He asks, incredulously.

 

Maybe-Robbie’s smile drops from his face, and he looks honestly perturbed at Dipper’s question. He opens his mouth to ask about it, but Pacifica takes the opportunity to put her hands on Dipper’s back and physically ushers him out the door.

 

“Oh my god” She breathes. “Just, like, don’t talk for a bit. We’ll go get Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford. They’ll know what to do about this.” She waved at him when she said “this”, clearly meaning “you”. Dipper would be offended, but, well – he can’t say he would be too happy if one of them had shown up on his doorstep unannounced, either. He nods silently, and waits.

 

Gideon, meanwhile, is shifting from foot to foot and looks increasingly nervous with every minute spent in Dipper’s presence. Dipper would almost suspect that Gideon had a bad history with Dipper, but that’s crazy, right? His alternate universe self is probably totally awesome. Like Tyrone! Man, Tyrone was the best.

 

They stand in silence for a few minutes, before Dipper hears a loud thump, some crashing, a few choice curses, and a Grunkle yelling “What?” at the top of his lungs. It’s nice to know that some things are exactly as he left them.

 

* * *

 

Whatever Dipper had been expecting when he entered the Mystery Shack, it hadn’t been…. This.

 

So, he guesses he probably should have expecting something like this. Everything was opposite here, after all. It’s just that that the Mystery Shack seemed so _normal_ compared to everything else (preppy Robbie notwithstanding). Seeing the Mystery Shack in all its dubious glory was like falling into your bed after a particularly stressful day. The way your sheets smelled like fabric softener, and the curve of the mattress broken in just right. The Mystery Shack was, for all intents and purposes, Dipper’s second home, and the Grunkles were an integral part of that.

 

Grunkle Stan is standing in front of him. Dipper knows it’s him, knows that scar on the left side of his chin was from where he took a glass bottle to the face in a bar fight in Vegas (or so he claims – Dipper and Mabel were always suspicious of the story, especially after Soos brought it up once in front of Grunkle Stan and then never spoke of it again). Logically, knew that this man was an alternate reality version of his Grunkle who he loved more than he would ever say. So to see this version standing in front of him, staring at him not like a stranger, but like an enemy, it was- it was not good. Dipper shrinks underneath the vitriolic gaze, shrugging his shoulders up to his chin and staring resolutely at the ground. He cringes back and steps backwards until he’s standing against a wall.

 

He feels vaguely like a hunted animal.

 

(Unfortunately, this is not a new feeling for him.)

 

Pacifica steps between Grunkle Stan and Dipper, putting her hands up, placating. Gideon stands in the doorframe looking nervous (blocking Dipper’s exit? Or ready to make a quick getaway himself?) Dipper glances around, more wildly this time, taking stock of other escape routes. He finds none, and his breaths start coming in quicker, shallower. His vision starts to blacken around the edges, tunneling in until all he can see is his Grunkle’s disapproving face.

 

He’s _really_ panicking now. He slides down the wall, wooden splinters digging into his back, but he can barely feel them. He’s breathing like he just ran a marathon and he’s spiraling and _oh god, oh god, oh fuck what has he gotten himself into what is going on oh my god-_

“Kid, kid! Hey, calm down there. Take it easy. Breathe with me, there we go, nice and slow, there we go.”

 

Dipper looks up, willing his heart rate to slow down. He’s got tears on his cheeks, and he’s somehow folded up into a ball on the ground, legs pulled up to his chest and arms protectively hugging his knees. His Grunkle’s large, calloused hands are rubbing gruff circles on his back.

 

Grunkle Stan is kneeling in front of Dipper, making soothing noises and looking concerned and vaguely panicked. Dipper can’t help it- he laughs, a teary, snotty laugh that probably sounds a little more hysterical than amused. This Grunkle Stan looks exactly like his own Grunkle Stan looked, the first time that Dipper had a panic attack – like a bachelor being handed a crying toddler (which, if Dipper thinks too hard about it, really isn’t that far off from what happened). That’s when it really hits him that _this isn’t his Grunkle_ and he panics again.

 

“Easy, easy now.” Grunkle Stan tries to guide Dipper into breathing with him again. Robbie and Gideon hover apprehensively in the background, not sure what to do, but not comfortable enough to leave them be either. Pacifica rushes back into the room (when did she even leave?) and sets a glass next to Dipper on the floor.

 

After a few minutes, Grunkle Stan presses the glass into Dipper’s hands and encourages him to take a few more deep breaths before he drinks the water. Once he’s sufficiently calmed down, awareness starts coming back to Dipper, and he winces with shame. He has panic attacks, sometimes, but he’s gotten a pretty good handle on them lately. Mabel was always the best at helping him handle them, getting him to a safe place and chattering on until he breaks free of his circuitous thoughts. Grunkle Stan wasn’t too bad either, though mostly he tried to keep his nephew out of situations that could trigger him in the first place.

 

Dipper finally turned his awareness back to the present. His clothes were still sticking to him uncomfortable, and he started to shiver. Grunkle Stan squinted at him, and gave a weary sigh.

 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, kid. Then you’re going to explain what the hell is going on.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dipper was given a towel and a fresh pair of clothing. He couldn’t fit into anything of Gideon’s, and Robbie didn’t have any extra clothing with him, so Grunkle found him an old white button up and a pair of black slacks. Pacifica found a large blue sweater with yellow ducklings printed on the chest, swimming in a line. Dipper suspected that she gave it to him as a test to see if he would deign to wear it, as much as it was a gift out of the kindness of her heart. Dipper was past the point of caring about how he looked, grateful for the extra warmth it provided.

 

Finally dried off and relatively comfortable, Dipper settled into his chair in the kitchen. He looked into the curious, but no longer hostile, faces around him, and set to explaining his theories about what could have happened to him.

 

He told them about how he had been exploring the woods in Gravity Falls when he was chased off a waterfall, he told them about how he went unconscious, and he told them about how he woke up here and how everything was backwards. He told them about how he lived at the Mystery Shack with the Grunkles and Mabel, and how he spent his time researching the mysteries of Gravity Falls.

 

His audience listened with rapture, then disbelief, and finally a tentative acceptance. It was clear that they didn’t necessarily believe him, but they didn’t really have an alternative at the moment. Finally, at the end of his story, he worked up the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind since he figured out he was in an alternate reality.

 

“So… The Dipper here? What’s he like? When will I meet him?”

 

The group exchanged glances. It was Pacifica that spoke up.

 

“Uh... I don’t think… I don’t think you guys are going to get along.”

 

Grunkle Stan snorts under his breath. “You got that right, kiddo.”

 

* * *

 

 

_In another universe:_

Mabel is frustrated. She had to leave her friends early because her _dummy brother_ got himself lost in the woods. Grunkle Stan called late in the afternoon, asking Mabel if Dipper had gone into town with her or anything like that. She told him that no, he had been planning on getting some more of the crystals; she didn’t think he would be gone for very long. Grunkle Stan seemed oddly perturbed, and asked her to come home to help him look. She acquiesced, but she wasn’t _happy_ about it, that’s for sure.

 

So. Anyway. She’s walking through the woods, and it’s getting dark, and where is Dipper? He knows better than to stay in the woods this late (it’s not that the woods are safer during the day, necessarily, but during the daylight you can see everything else just as easily as it can see you. This is not true during the night, especially when you have a flashlight acting as a homing beacon for anything that might go “bump” in the night. Or “growl” in the night. Or “pounce” in the night. You get the point).

 

She’s about to turn around and head back to the shack before the sun sets over the horizon, when she comes up to the river. Maybe Dipper had gone swimming? It wouldn’t hurt to check.

 

She walks up to the river, already rehearsing her _epic scolding_ when she stops short.

 

That’s-

 

No, it can’t be, Dipper wouldn’t just-

 

But it _is_.

 

Mabel pales, and she rushes towards the river. Next to the bank, Journal 3 floats in a little tide pool, protected from the current of the river by a few rocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day! (I'm lying, they make my week, my month, my life) Please leave me constructive criticism, point out any grammar mistakes, etc.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipper... What have you gotten yourself into...

Dipper isn’t sure if he’s ever been _less_ impressed in his life. 

So Dipper is just sitting in the Mystery Shack, minding his own business, right? Still recovering from the panic attack, trying to fend off Pacifica’s incessant questions (poorly) and trying to avoid Gideon’s curious gaze (less poorly). Anyway. Dipper is minding his own business, sitting in the kitchen, sipping on his hot cocoa (with tiny marshmallows? Oh fuck yes) when fucking Mabel bursts into the kitchen.

Except _it’s not his Mabel._

This is weird, freaky, opposite-universe Mabel, and boy is Dipper _not fucking impressed_.

She burst in the room in typical Mabel fashion, with energy and enthusiasm (though a distinct lack of glitter – Dipper will forgive her for it this once, as Pacifica seems to have that part _thoroughly_ covered). Less Mabel-like were the threats that followed her entrance. It was almost reminiscent of original-universal Gideon (OG? Dipper smirks briefly at the thought – two birds with one stone. Original Gideon, original gangster. He mentally high-fives himself). It was all bluster and ridiculousness, over the top like a performer who has played Hamlet for the 50 th fucking time that year and secretly thinks that the guy should just _get a fucking grip_ , seriously.

Dipper honestly wasn’t even paying that close of attention to the words being spoken around him, honestly – he was too busy taking in the _absolute fucking weirdness_ of Mabel. She was tall (taller than his Mabel? Or maybe she just stood up straighter?), with straightened, long brown hair. Her dress was tailored and clean-cut, black and teal and so unlike his Mabel that it was almost hard to see the resemblance between this interloper and his sister.

Her threats were basic – laughably simple, and more like Gideon’s earlier gimmicks. She threatened to have the police called on them for a variety of Grunkle Stan’s schemes, to leave anonymous “tips” for the IRS, to take the Mystery Shack for herself, etc. Dipper wasn’t even sure why she bothered, it’s not like anyone would actually-

Motherfucker, _do they actually believe her?_

Dipper’s saving grace thus far has been that Mabel doesn’t seem to notice him, her eyes being focused purely on Gideon and Pacifica. Gideon and Pacifica, meanwhile, look scared out of their absolute minds. Dipper wonders – are they not used to dealing with these threats? Or are the threats a little more credible than Gideon’s were?

(There’s a thought in the back of his mind that he tries not to let come to the surface. It sounds suspiciously like Bill, and it whispers _maybe you and shooting star are_ stronger _than them, maybe you’re_ better _than them, maybe you’re_ the best version _of yourself that can exist._ Dipper tries to squash the thought down, but it persists, unspoken.)

What is most interesting, though, isn’t this alternate Mabel. It’s what’s behind Mabel.

More specifically, _who_ is behind Mabel. 

Dipper makes eye contact with alternate universe Dipper, and everything else ceases to matter.

 

* * *

 

Alternate Universe Dipper is, for a lack of a better word, _really fucking weird_. He looks like Dipper in all the ways that don’t really matter – he’s got the same facial features, the same coloring and the same constellation of freckles on his forehead signifying his name. But that’s where the similarities end. 

This Dipper is cold, and stands still as a statue in winter. His eyes are steel bullets that pierce Dipper Pines to his core, weigh him, and find him wanting – like a puzzle easily solved. Unsatisfactory.

This Dipper matches alternate Mabel in the same ways, actually – they both seem like they belong in this universe. They’re both sharp, and cold, and honestly? They both seem like sociopaths. 

This Dipper is wearing a black suit, with a teal bolo tie (and seriously? Dipper and Mabel outgrew the whole twin-matching thing when they were like, six. It’s kind of weird that the sociopathic versions of themselves kept it up).

Dipper stares at other-Dipper harder, narrowing his eyes. Alternate-Dipper doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even shift on his feet uncomfortably. He looks not only like he expected this to happen, but finds it as uninteresting as a rerun of an old mystery. The kind where the killer is telegraphed in the first 5 minutes and you spend the rest of the story wondering why you ever found the plot interesting in the first place.

Dipper narrows his eyes further, before glancing away, cursing inwardly. He lost that little tete-a-tete, and he hadn’t even been aware of it at the start. He stares down at the kitchen table, curling his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palms.

Well. He wondered what his alternate universe self was like. He guesses that he should be happy he got an answer, whether or not he likes what he sees.

Because honestly? 

Alternate universe seems like an utter and unequivocal _dick_. 

Dipper regrets every major (and minor) life decision that brought him to this point in his life.

 

* * *

 

After the _intruders_ leave, Dipper finds out the real reason for the visit.

“She’s uh... kind of obsessed? With me?” Gideon says, hesitatingly. The poor boy seems to cringe into himself, his shoulders meeting his chin and his eyes ducking down to the floor. He looks embarrassed, and not flattered in the slightest.

“I, uh, went on a date with her when I was younger,” Gideon starts, then panics. “Not that I liked her! I just, I didn’t know how to say no to her, and everyone thought it was cute, and that I should say yes, and I don’t know, I didn’t know how to disappoint her! And then I finally dumped her, and then everyone was so mad at me, it was awful!” Gideon shrinks further into himself as he defends his actions. 

Pacifica jumps in. “Not that you should ever have to feel bad about saying no to her!” Pacifica defends her brother, daring Dipper to disagree with her eyes. “It doesn’t matter that he’s a boy and she’s a girl. He doesn’t have to date anyone he doesn’t want to, and it’s still harassment!” Pacifica’s claws have come out fully now, a mama bear defending a cub from an attacker.

Dipper raises his hands, placating. “Hey man, I don’t have a problem with that.”

Pacifica pauses, a little surprised by the answer. “Well, good. Anyway…” She trails off, clearly having lost the plot of her argument with the quick agreement.

Gideon jumps back in. “Anyway, she comes back every once in a while to bother us. She never really forgave me for the whole not-liking-her-back thing, and she seems to think that she can force it by coming around enough. Or blackmailing me into it.” He shudders at the thought, clearly disturbed. 

Dipper says nothing, and stands aside, contemplatively. This is clearly a discussion that the alternate Pines have had a few times, and to be fair, Dipper and Mabel have talked about Gideon in the same manner, but…

Well, call Dipper crazy, but alternate-Mabel didn’t seem all that interested in Gideon when she was here. She had been speaking mostly to Gideon, sure, but she kept glancing over at Pacifica, gauging her reactions, making sure that the Pacifica was still focused on her. Dipper, to be fair, wasn’t all that great with people, but he was good with his sister. He suspected that maybe, just maybe, something a little deeper was going on.

 

* * *

 

_In another world_

 

Bill Cipher watches with interest as Shooting Star walks through the woods, Journal clutched tightly in her hands. She looks disturbed, and confused, and most importantly, she looks deliciously frightened.

“Well well well well well well well… What mess have you gotten yourself into this time, Pine Tree?” 

Mabel Pines vaguely hears high-pitched laughter reverberating around her, and she quickens her pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly astounded at the amount of people leaving reviews and kudos on my work... Reviews make me incredibly happy, and also help me improve my writing, so please review!


	4. Chapter 4

If you were to ask Dipper Pines how he was sure that he was in an alternate universe instead of just, like, in a coma, his answer would be that, uh, he really wasn’t sure of that at all. He would, however, tell you that he was going to act like his actions had real-life consequences for a number of reasons:

  1. How can anyone ever _really_ be sure they’re not dreaming? (This quickly leads into some Descartian-I-think-therefore-I-am bullshit, so Dipper recommends not thinking on the subject for too long). Long story short, you don’t, not really, but you don’t just go randomly murdering anyone who annoys you because you’re not positive there won’t be consequences, right? Same theory applies here.
  2. It feels pretty fucking real. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t really _believe_ it either, but weirder shit has happened in Gravity Falls, right? (Plus, his arm is kinda sore from where he kept pinching it).
  3. He really fucking _hopes_ he’s not dreaming, because if he’s in some kind of long, convoluted dream that would put Dipper directly in Bill Cipher’s territory. Which is to be avoided at all costs. And finally:
  4. Dipper’s not entirely positive _he could make this shit up._ It’s like everything is backwards, here, but not quite a mirror image. Like someone inverted all the colors (and in some cases, literally) on a photograph, then superimposed it over an entirely different picture. It’s not just backwards here, it’s also upside-down in some places, left where it should be right in others, and unavoidably _blue_ where Dipper is expecting _yellow_ (and, apparently, orange where he’s expecting blue. He still hasn’t figured out what’s up with the creepy sky thing yet).



(Seriously, it’s like they’ve got some kind of motif going here, everyone is always wearing some kind of blue- from Gideon’s powder blue to the twin’s teal matching outfits – it’s weird and kinda silly, like cartoon characters that never change their clothes). 

Moral of the story: Dipper doesn’t _think_ he’s dreaming, and he hopes to fuck that he’s not. 

And don’t get Dipper wrong, he’s _terrified_ of fucking everything up. But he doesn’t think it’s one of those universe-paradox situations where everything will just, like, vanish if he does the wrong thing (I mean, he already kinda sorta met other Dipper, so that’s one worry down, at least).

 

* * *

 

 

After the, uh, _interesting_ meeting that Dipper had with the twins (apparently they’re Gleeful twins here? Dipper kinda wonders about how the family tree works but… He’s not sure he really wants to know, to be honest), the Pines family takes pity on Dipper, and they shuffle him off to bed. Gideon and Pacifica sleep in separate rooms (like him and Mabel. Once puberty hits, sleeping in the same room as your sibling is, uh, a little more _difficult_ than it had been at 12), so there wasn’t an extra bed around, and no one was exactly eager to give up their bed for Dipper, so he took the hint and set up camp on the couch with a threadbare blanket and a pillow that smells comfortingly like cigar smoke.

Dipper is, frankly, exhausted, and he’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. His dreams are troubled and weird, though not exactly nightmare material. He feels like he’s being watched, he’s being followed, and there are weird shapes floating in and out of his view. A couple of times he thinks he sees Bill, but without all the sheer terror that usually accompanies his visits. He sees his Mabel, and then she morphs into Mabel Gleeful, grinning at him sinisterly. Her mouth elongates and her eyes widen, and then suddenly teeth are closing in around him as he runs as fast as he can, over the edge of a cliff that he doesn’t remember seeing before. He’s falling, falling, forever, and he looks down and sees Dipper Gleeful laying on the ground, face up and eyes terrified, and he’s about to smack directly into him when-

-Dipper bolts up. His chest heaves and his brow is covered in cold sweat. He looks around himself, and suddenly he can’t stand the familiarity of the shack, of the noise and the smell and the way that it feels like home and so foreign at the same time, it makes him feel sick to his stomach. The sun has barely risen, but he gets up, rifles through Stan’s closet for a spare change of clothes, and steals a hat from the gift shop (an old blue pine tree hat, just like the one he has at home. It feels fitting, somehow, but more importantly it covers his hair and hides his face). Dipper shoves on a pair of boots he finds next to the front door, and he’s out of the shack and walking toward town before he can convince himself that this is a bad idea.

He loses himself to his thoughts on his way to town. Who knows what the place will be like? Will it be the same, with people switching roles? Will there be obvious gaps between his Gravity Falls and Reverse Falls? Dipper’s not sure what would be worse - if the town were totally different, or if Dipper was the only thing out of place.

His stomach grumbles in protest as he trudges along. He was in too much of a rush to actually grab breakfast, so he guesses the diner is as good a first stop as any.

 

* * *

 

When Dipper walks into Greasy’s Diner, he thinks that he’s prepared for anything that this fucked up town might throw his way. He’s not. 

Dipper saunters in, casually, trying to look like he belongs (the townsfolk in the diner wonders who the new guy is, and why he looks like something uncomfortably spiky crawled up his ass and died). He takes a seat at a booth in the back of the diner, facing outward and people watching as subtly as he can (he ends up staring down at least 3 people, and 2 children start crying after making eye contact with him. Dipper does not notice this).

A steaming cup of coffee is placed in front of him, causing him to jump in surprise. A vaguely recognizable face grins down at him from above, though Dipper can’t quite place where he’s seen this man before. The man has brown hair (just a smattering of grey at the temples), with small circular glasses. He’s wearing a tweed jacket with professorly leather elbow patches over a crisp white button up and dark brown tie. He looks like he stepped out of a University lecture on quantum physics in the early 1970s. Intelligent, creative, and with a touch of Cold War anxiety.

“I can always recognize,” the mystery man starts, “when a boy doesn’t belong. Tell you what, kid. I’ll buy you pancakes if you tell me how you got here.” 

Dipper looks up at the man, hesitant. He doesn’t know how to answer, if he should answer. The guy guessed what happened, right? So it’s not like he could do more harm just by telling the truth, but….

“Don’t be shy, kid!” The man’s gaze darts around, a little anxiously. He takes a seat across the table from Dipper, and starts ripping at a napkin.

“I’m something of a scientist around these here parts. I run a lab on the outskirts of town.”

Dipper relaxes his shoulders a bit. Science he understands, and scientists are some of his favorite people. Exploring the unknown, finding truth in the darkness – those were his kind of people.

“You can call me, uh. You can call me Mason.” Dipper finally chokes out. Better not associate himself with Dipper Gleeful, not if the guy had some bad blood in this town. The man’s eyes soften a bit, and he receives a gentle smile for his efforts.

“You can call me Fiddleford, Dipper.”

Dipper’s eyes snap up with renewed intensity. A large stack of pancakes is set between the two of them.

“Dig in, kid. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Dipper takes a swig of his coffee, dramatically.

(It doesn’t end up looking as cool as he hoped it would. The coffee was steaming hot still, so he burned his tongue, and Dipper _hated_ black coffee, so he kind of choked on it. He spends a good two minutes trying to cough up the liquid that had travelled to his lungs, and, really, Dipper is the only person in apparently _two_ universes now that could die as lamely as drowning on a cup of coffee while trying to look badass.)

(Lazy Susan comes over with a glass of water, and then follows it with another stack of pancakes to try and make him feel better. The pancakes had whipped cream and sprinkles on them, with a smiley face drawn on top in chocolate chips. It worked.)

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So how did you know my name?” Dipper asks, curiously, as the two walk from Greasy’s Diner over to McGucket’s lab. Their bellies are incredibly (almost uncomfortably) full on sugar and coffee, and so they plod on rather slowly.

McGucket looks off to the side, and says “You might say I have a… Proprietary interest in Dipper Gleeful. I would recognize that boy in any disguise, any shape, and, probably, in any universe.”

“Proprietary as in ‘he’s like a son to me’ or like ‘we’re mortal enemies bent on destroying each other and possibly the world’?” Dipper asks.

Fiddleford looks surprised at the question, then smiles. “Ha! You’ve got an interesting imagination, there, don’t ya? I mean proprietary as in proprietary. The kid has studied under me for a while now, and does some work for me in my labs. He’s quite the academic, you know.” 

Dipper takes in the information in silence, mulling it over. So Dipper Gleeful isn’t necessarily as evil as he might seem at first glance. Dipper glances over at Fiddleford’s face. Maybe not quite trustworthy, though. Dipper remembers that Old Man McGucket was tricked pretty thoroughly by Bill Cipher. Fiddleford, while nice, probably isn’t the best judge of character.

Fiddleford stops in front of Dipper, who bumps into him and blinks at his surroundings. There’s a small, 1 story building in front of him, about the size of a convenience store. It has grey cement walls and large windows in the side, giving him a nice view of a white interior with lab equipment scattered on various tables. “Well, we’re here! I’ve got something that you might find helpful.”

Fiddleford leads him into the building and guides him over to a chair that sits in front of a microscope. Fiddleford bustles off to go find something, and Dipper looks around with interest. There are refrigerators along a back wall, stocked up with chemicals in brown bottles. Beakers in various stages of cleanliness are stacked haphazardly next to a sink, and a table with a set of Bunsen burners to his left is covered in some kind of white residue. The wall opposite the windows is covered ceiling to floor in bookshelves overflowing with books, and when Dipper gets up to take a look, he finds textbooks and arcane texts on a variety of topics, from astrophysics to genetics, calculus to mathematics.

Fiddleford scurries back into the room, holding a grey, gun shaped object with a glowing green tube on top, which he presses into Dipper’s hands. Dipper flinches back, not expecting (nor particularly wanting) a gun.

“I, uh.” Dipper starts. Fiddleford looks at him with expectant eyes. “What do you… Want me to do with this, exactly?”

Fiddleford looks confused a minute, then cottons on. “It’s a portal gun! It can usually be used to hop between dimensions, but, uh…” He trails off for a moment, and then picks up steam. “I kind of, uh, ran out of portal fluid? I haven’t figured out the exact recipe to use it safely for travel, but I’ve made a decent enough concoction to use it as a window, of sorts, into another universe.” Fiddleford looks at Dipper again, clearly finished with his explanation.

“So you want me to…?”

“So since you can’t travel with it, think of it as more of an…. Interdimensional cellphone!” Fiddleford brightens considerably. 

Dipper looks down at the object in his hands, appraising and impressed. “Wow, that’s amazing! Who made it?”

Fiddleford grimaces. “He’s, uh, not exactly kid-friendly. Or people friendly, in general. Suffice to say that he’s a loner genius type. You wouldn’t like him.”

Dipper nods, then switches his attention back to the task at hand. Fiddleford shows him how to adjust the dial on portal gun. Apparently universes are named and numbered. This is, of course, news to Dipper, but once he thinks about it, Dipper does have a faint recollection of Grunkle Ford talking about it once or twice. It takes some fussing, but eventually Dipper and Ford get the gun in working order, find the right universe, and train the “window” to show his sister, Mabel. Ford leaves the room to give Dipper some privacy while he calls his sister.

Her back is turned away from the view of the window, and she seems to be searching for something in the woods, head turning from side to side.

“Mabel,” Dipper calls, almost a whisper at first. Maybe it’s silly but.. A part of him was truly worried he wouldn’t be able to find a way back, and he wondered in the back of his head if he would ever see his sister again. He screwed up his courage. “Mabel!” He said again, louder. 

Mabel turns around. “Dipper?!” She yelled, excitedly. Seeing his face through the portal, she runs over to him with her arms outstretched.

“Stop!” Dipper yells, before she gets too close. “It’s not safe to touch this thing. Think of it as a, uh, a Skype call! Yeah.”

Mabel nods quickly, still ecstatic to see him. “Oh my god! Bro-bro, what happened? I was so worried, and I found your journal in the woods, then there were all sorts of weird markings all over the trees! Soos and Grunkle Stan are still looking for you.” She pauses to take a breath, which Dipper uses to interrupt her.

“Mabel, I got, I don’t know, transported to another Universe? It’s weird, this place is super weird, but I found a few people who are willing to help me.”

Dipper and Mabel chat for a while, updating each other on what’s happened to each of them since Dipper’s disappearance. Dipper tells Mabel about the weird backwardness of everyone in the town, while Mabel fills Dipper in on the strange symbols carved into the trees around the river.

Toward the end of their conversation, Dipper gets serious for a minute. “Mabel, I’ll call you when I can, but I haven’t found a way home yet. I want you to go find Grunkle Ford and convince him to come back as soon as you can get in contact with him. I can’t... I’m not sure I can do this by myself, Mabel.” She nods and promises, uncharacteristically silent for once.

Dipper glances down at the fluid inside the portal gun, which looks dangerously low and is pulsing an awful sickly green now. “I love you Mabel. Tell Grunkle Stan and Soos that I’m safe for now, and I’m looking into how to get home.”

Mabel nods again, her eyes filling with tears. “Love you too, Bro-bro. Be safe.”

Dipper cuts the connection before his twin can see him cry.

Teal eyes peer out from behind a doorway, cold and calculating, hidden from the room’s occupant.

 

* * *

 

Bill Cipher grins as Shooting Star gasps when the portal is closed, leaving her all alone again. He rubs his hands together and laughs, mirthfully.

He might just have a deal he can offer to his little Pine Tree. The kid will make it home eventually, but Bill might make him sweat it a bit, let him get a little desperate. Bill will watch out for his favorite human of course, but boy… That kid can be really cute when he’s distressed. 

Bill Cipher hums a jaunty tune and gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. For anyone wondering, yes, the portal is supposed to be Rick's portal gun (from Rick and Morty). 
> 
> The semester is getting underway for graduate school, so I'm not sure how far apart updates will be, but I'm hoping to update every few weeks.
> 
> Please consider reviewing! I find constructive criticism extremely helpful toward my writing, and they motivate me to write more than anything else!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I swear I meant to write this earlier, but then life got in the way, and... *shrugs*

Dipper scrubs tears from his eyes before Fiddleford can return. He hears footsteps behind him and hopes that the redness has mostly cleared from his nose and eyes – it’s an unfortunate family trait, but the entire Pines family gets red and blotchy whenever they’re upset. He stays turned away from Fiddleford. No point in worrying the guy after he did Dipper a huge favor.

 

“Hey man… I know you don’t know me, but I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this. I’m really glad I got to tell Mabel I was safe.” His voice cracks.

 

“I’m not sure I’m the one you want to be thanking.” Dipper’s back snaps ramrod straight at the unfamiliar voice. Or, not unfamiliar. Too familiar, maybe. Like a video recording of his voice being played back at him, only he never said the words, and the tone was a little too – smooth. Like sand paper was taken to Dipper’s voice, and the rough edges and imperfections were buffed out.

 

Dipper turns quickly, not wanting to keep his back turned to the interloper. Dipper Gleeful is standing in front of him, blocking the doorway. Dipper looks around surreptitiously. Blocking the only exit, then. The Gleeful twin stands straight up in the doorway. He’s not relaxed, but he doesn’t appear to be uncomfortable either. He looks calm, collected. Like he knows what is going on and he’s in control of the situation. He’s wearing the same stupid bolo tie, with the same teal blue gemstone in the middle that terrorized his childhood. Dipper Gleeful is also wearing a black vest and white button up shirt, with smart black slacks and shined oxford shoes. His hair is combed and put together in a way that Dipper himself could never manage (and how funny would it be if he used magic to get his hair to stay that way? It’s the only way Dipper can imagine getting his hair to stay perfectly neat like that).

 

“Cat got your tongue?” The imposter raises a thin eyebrow.

 

Dipper… Can’t think. Can’t think of what to say, what to do, what he should do. What _should_ he do? How many people have ever been in a situation like this before? (Dipper is gonna take a wild guess and say, uh, _none_ because this type of shit doesn’t happen to other people. It’s unfair. He should file a complaint with, like, the Karma department or something.)

 

The question remains: should Dipper cop to this? He’s clearly been recognized, he doesn’t think he can explain his way outta this situation. Maybe he could distract the guy? This is Fiddleford McGucket’s lab after all, shouldn’t there be some kind of, like, doomsday machine? Laser of mass destruction? Dipper would settle for a beam of mild inconveniencing at this point. His hands shake, and he rubs his sweaty palms against his pants.

 

Dipper continues to stare at his counterpart, silent. There’s too much riding on this, too many things that can go wrong, and Dipper _does not trust this guy_. This isn’t like the situation with Tyrone, ok, this is a person with the same (probably) genetics as him, but a _completely different_ upbringing. Who knows what kind of life he could have had – either way, Dipper would bet that he’s a completely different person, and therefore, not currently trustworthy.

 

Dipper #2 rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, and lets out a huff of a sigh. “Whatever. It’s not like I expected you to tell me your life story or anything.” Teal blue eyes bore unflinchingly into Dipper’s. “You don’t trust me. Fine. But remember that I _am_ you. Your distrust in me is an inherent reflection on your self-worth and belief of your own moral integrity. Which, apparently, is none. Luckily for us, I don’t suffer from the same foibles. I’ll help you get home.”

 

Dipper cringes a little at the assessment. It’s not entirely inaccurate, but it feels a little unfair. Dipper is alone and confused in a world that he’s not even entirely sure exists; it only makes sense to distrust those around him. It’s survival instincts.

 

McGucket finally walks in. “Dipper! I see you’ve met your counterpart.”

 

Both Dippers agree at the same time, and then look at each other quietly.

 

“Well, this might be a bit confusing. I was, er, talking to this universe’s Dipper, to be honest, kid.” Fiddleford McGucket looks a little contrite, like he doesn’t want to hurt Dipper’s feelings.

 

“I’ll keep my name as Dipper. It only makes sense, this is my Universe and everyone here knows me as Dipper. We’ll refer to you as Mason.”

 

Dipper scrunches up his nose, but doesn’t protest the name-kidnapping. “Pines.”

 

“What?” Gleeful looks confused for the first time.

 

“My name is Dipper Pines. You should call me Pines.”

 

“That doesn’t even- okay, whatever. You’re Dipper Pines. Apparently.” Dipper Gleeful looks like he wants to argue the point, but decides it’s not worth the effort.

 

McGucket claps his hands, aware of the tension in the room but choosing to ignore it. “Alright, kiddos, we need a plan of action. Got any ideas?”

 

“I know someone who might be able to help.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Dipper is lead to a clearing in the forest. Dipper Gleeful is holding a large tome, while Fiddleford is looking nervous in the background, ready to make a break for it. He appears to be sweating, and the nervous tic that Dipper had noticed in the Diner has gotten considerably worse. The poor man is nearly shaking, and Dipper wonders what his counterpart is doing that’s making McGucket so nervous.

Dipper Gleeful ignores both of them, and begins mumbling under his breath in Latin, reading from the large book. Dipper leans in to catch his words.

 

‘-vene foris dominus mentium. Vene foris videntis omnium“

 

Dipper would recognize those words anywhere. He rears back from Gleeful, terrified, certain that he’ll hear Bill’s high-pitched laughter at any moment. He holds his breath, and-

 

Nothing happens.

 

No earthquakes, no grey-scaled landscape, no random gore. Nothing.

 

Fiddleford looks relieved. Dipper Gleeful looks irritated.

 

“Come out you triangle bastard!” He calls out, and glares at the sky when he doesn’t receive an answer. “I know you can hear me! If you don’t answer me now, things will be much less pleasant for you later, I promise you that.” Crickets chirp, as if trying to fill the awkward silence.

 

Dipper Gleeful lets the book hit the ground with a dull thud, and looks positively livid. He doesn’t say a word to his two companions, and instead storms off back in the direction of the lab.

 

McGucket frowns, and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. “I better go check on the kiddo, he gets a little… Well. I don’t want to leave him alone with too much access to magic when he gets like this. Why don’t you get back to the Mystery Shack for now, kid, and we’ll try to sort some stuff out around here. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

 

“I. Yeah.” Dipper watches the area Gleeful stormed off to. He collects himself and sticks out his hand. “Nice meeting you.”

 

Fiddleford McGucket takes his hand with a fatherly smile. “Get going kid. You don’t want to be caught alone if he decides to show up.”

 

Dipper doesn’t need McGucket to explain who he’s talking about. 

 

* * *

 

 

When Dipper finally trudges back to the Mystery Shack, it’s half past 2 and Dipper’s stomach is complaining. It’s easy to forget about nourishment when you’re _completely terrified_ , but Dipper’s stomach finally seems to have had enough.

 

Dipper heads over to the kitchen to appease his traitorous stomach with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when he’s accosted by his Grunkle Stan. Dipper startles, drops his knife to the floor, and then bends down to pick it up without taking his eyes off his Grunkle. Stan just snorts and claps a large hand on Dipper’s shoulder. Dipper grimaces and pretends that it wasn’t painful at all, no siree, no manly tears here. Stan sees his posturing, and gives the kid a full-blown smile, wrinkles around his eyes crinkling up.

 

“It’s time you and I,” Stan Pines says, “had a little chat.”

 

Dipper tries to look confident and in control of the situation.

 

(He succeeds in gaining pity by looking completely unconfident and totally not in control of the situation.)

 

* * *

 

The chat with Grunkle Stan, Dipper thinks to himself later, had gone surprisingly well. There had been no threats, thinly veiled or otherwise. Dipper and Stan had actually just had an honest to goodness heart to heart about where Dipper was from, what was different in this reality, and how scared Dipper was and how much he wanted to go home.

  
Stan was, while not quite empathetic, at least a little sympathetic. He nodded and shushed and agreed in all the right places, and even offered Dipper a hug at the end of the story. Then Stan started in on the history of this place.

 

“As far as I can tell,” Stan had said, “Your world and ours had a lot of similar experiences. There was the weirdmageddon and the monsters and the…” He waves his hand, but doesn’t finish his sentence. “And my brother gone, too, though that story went a little differently.”

 

Over all, Dipper feels like he’s got a better handle on this place. He’s gotten to know the people here a bit, and while they’re not _his_ people, they’re still people.

 

A twig snaps, breaking him out of his reverie. He looks around and finds nothing. Probably just a rabbit running off or something. Nothing unusual. Everything seems quiet.

 

Too quiet.

 

He freezes, and notices that the woods are completely silent. He curses under his breath as he watches the color fade out of the world around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! Nothing fuels my writing binges like hearing what people think about my stories.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I'm not dead.

Dipper is aware that he’s caught with his pants down, metaphorically. He has nothing to defend himself with, no one knows where he currently is, and, most importantly, no one has a vested interest in his continued survival. He’s out here all alone, and while no one he’s met so far  _dislikes_  him, Dipper would bet good money that no one’s going to stick their neck too far out for him either. Besides, if he just randomly disappears? That’s everyone’s problems solved, easy as pie.

 

Dipper scrambles around searching for a weapon, any weapon. His gaze falls upon a large, pointed branch, and he picks it up, brandishing it like it’s a lance. He probably looks silly, and a little bit desperate. Dipper doesn’t care. He is, to be perfectly honest, a little desperate.

 

His shoes squelch in the mud as he turns on his heel, scouring for his assailant.

 

“I know you’re out there, Bill. Show yourself!” He waves his stick wildly. He hopes it looks more intimidating than he feels.

 

He hears a fearful squeak, and a pop of color returns to the world before fading into grey again.

 

Dipper’s weapon flags a bit, his arm growing tired (yeah, ok, he should probably start like, lifting weights or something. He’s not proud of this moment). He looks around in confusion. Is this a new tactic of Bill’s? Lulling his prey into a false sense of security? He’s determined that it won’t work, and steels himself for the attack that he knows is coming.

 

“My name… My name isn’t Bill. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you. My… My name is Will.”

 

There, in the orange sky, is a floating blue triangle with a frightened expression.

 

Dipper refuses to be ashamed of the little "meep" that slips out of his mouth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, so. Will. Will Cipher. That's a thing here, apparently.

 

Will looks a lot like Bill, if Dipper's being totally honest. A one-eyed triangle demon, complete with a top hat and bow tie. They could be twins, with just a few glaring differences.

 

Will floats in the air, and he somehow manages to look awkward and unsure. He fiddles with his top hat, fingering the brim uncomfortably. Dipper is aware that he hasn't actually spoken yet, but this is a new level of weird for him (can he even say that anymore? This whole misadventure has been new levels of weird for him. He needs to establish, like, a weird-o-meter. Not everything can be a new level of weird for him. He's a scientist. He needs _standardized measurements,_ dammit!)

 

Dipper isn't sure what he thought would happen when he met this universe's version of Bill. It seems odd that an all-powerful demon like Bill wouldn't just, like, exist on multiple planes of the universe. Or even that whatever weirdo, fucked up magic here that's screwing with this universe is more powerful than Bill, and it effected his double in such weird, grossly obvious ways.

 

Once it's clear that Dipper isn't going to make use of his vocal cords for intelligent speech any time soon, Will nervously clears his throat (does he even have a throat?) and starts speaking again.

 

"I, um. I heard your, uh, predicament. Overheard your predicament, I mean. Uh. From, uh, from Dipper. The, um, the other Dipper, I mean, not from you-Dipper, from this Dipper, the Dipper that exists here. That Dipper…" He trails off lamely. "He and his sister, Mabel, they were, they were talking about you. Um. I overheard. They."

 

He pauses, and gulps. He looks likes he's regretting his decision to come speak to Dipper. Dipper understands the feeling. He regrets being in a situation where Will Cipher feels the need to speak to him.

 

"They wanted me to offer my, um. Services. To you, that is." He shifts around, again, fussing with his bow tie and looking over his shoulder every few seconds. He can't keep any kind of eye contact with Dipper, but Dipper isn't letting that fool him into a false sense of security. It never pays to underestimate a demon, and certainly not one as powerful as a Cipher.

 

"They don't exactly know I'm here, now, at the moment, so um. I would appreciate it if you didn't mention this to them…?" He trails off, pitching his voice so the last part of his sentence ends more like a question than a statement.

 

Dipper almost scoffs. "Not tell them? What, like they're in control of you?"

 

Will doesn't protest this, like Dipper expects. Instead, he seems to shrink even further into himself and his hat quivers, almost emotionally, above him.

 

"That's not, um, completely inaccurate. We made a deal a while ago, when they were kids. It was after- well, it, um, doesn't matter what it was after. Anyway, the deal was obedience for freedom. Um. Relative freedom, I guess. As in, they wouldn't trap me in the book, the damned book-" He broke off for a minute, speaking faster and angrier as he went, before visibly relaxing. "The deal was obedience for freedom." He repeated, "but I'm not here for them. I'm here to see if you want to make a deal with me first. If I can- I mean, I can probably- and she won't find out, not if you ask first…."

 

Dipper is a lot of things, and an idiot isn't one of them.

 

(A lot of people will argue with that statement, but Dipper stands firmly by it. Clumsy? Yes. Socially awkward? Unquestionably. An idiot? No.)

 

Dipper isn't an idiot, and so he doesn't trust Will Cipher.

 

That being said, there's something about Will Cipher that is, almost, pitiable. If Dipper had to guess (and, to be fair, he's a pretty good guesser) he'd say that the Gleeful twins thwarted this version of weirdmageddon, and did it with the help of whatever book Will mentioned. They did it, and they threatened to seal him in the book (how, Dipper's not sure, but he'd be _very interested_ in finding out how that was possible). They were power hungry, though, and confident enough (arrogant enough?) in their abilities to offer Will a deal: his power, given in the form of those teal amulets, to avoid punishment. And, to be fair, Will certainly does seem subjugated.

 

But that doesn't mean he can't worm his way around their little deals in other ways, can't undermine their power over him. Who knows what Will wants in return for his help? Who knows what power Dipper has over their deal? He's the same person as Dipper Gleeful, after all. Does the magic in this universe recognize that?

 

Will Cipher sticks his hand out, not confident, but- hopeful.

 

Dipper looks at his hand, stares it down, and considers his situation. He's in an unknown universe, filled with people that he'll never have to see again. He could make this deal, right now, and leave them all with the consequences. There would be no downsides for Dipper - he would be back in his own world, and he'd never have to come back here again. No responsibility. After a while, this would all seem like a bad dream.

 

But.

 

But. There's the kicker. These people would still have to deal with Cipher. Will, Bill. What difference does it make? It's a damn Cipher.

 

Will sees the indecision in Dipper's face, and tries, desperately, to convince him. "There must be something, anything I can do! What do you want? Just name your price and I'll give it to you. Fame, fortune, whatever! You can be home in an hour with a mountain of gold, just shake my hand, please! I just want to be _free from her_!" He sticks his arm out straighter, more insistent.

 

And Dipper understands that. He met Mabel here. She was bossy and demanding, and, to be totally honest, kind of a bitch. He can't imagine being on her beck and call, waiting on her day in and day out, his power used for her whims, and likely being used to stalk poor Gideon. 

 

He stares at Will's hand and wavers, for a minute. He's not proud of it, but he thinks about it, he really does.

 

Dipper takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

 

"No deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so please review and let me know what you think! I really appreciate when people point out grammatical errors or anything that doesn't make sense, because I don't have any kind of beta reader. I have no idea how long this story will be, or how often I'll update (I've never written any kind of multi-chapter anything), but I promise that it will be finished eventually because I hate when authors start a story and never finish it.
> 
> Also, if you're curious, the giant bear mentioned is an Arctotherium, which was alive during the pleistocene era. It stood at about 12 feet and weighed nearly 4,000 pounds. No fossil of an Arctotherium was ever found in Oregon, as it was underwater for most of the pleistocene, however there were some fossilized footprints found from them in Oregon. It would be just Dipper's luck to find the only Arctotherium in all of Oregon.


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